


More Than a Pipe Dream

by DmWymack



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil, Bathing/Washing, Intimacy, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, andreil bath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9610856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DmWymack/pseuds/DmWymack
Summary: Literally just 1k words of an Andreil bath. Set when they're on two different pro-teams





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually literally the first fanfic i've ever written. i just really wanted them to have a bath together. also this is unbeta'd and i made it in like 2 hours. i'd love comments bc i need validation and also i'm really nervous about it??

As Neil shuts his apartment door closed behind him, their obese tortoiseshell winds its way through his feet. Before acknowledging him, he puts his key on the hook to the left of the door next to Andrew’s set. 

Neil crouches down and scratches the cat behind it’s ears, “Hey, Fatty. Where’s everyone at?” He gives himself a few more seconds before walking through the apartment, dropping his duffle bag in the hallway. 

He makes his way to their bedroom where he’s greeted with the sight of Andrew sprawled on the bed; cellphone held above his head and their second cat lounging on his chest. He’s without his armbands in dark grey sweatpants with a maroon and blue emblem of Neil’s Colorado Exy team on the hip, and a well-fitted white tee.

Just like Neil had left him this morning before making his way to practice. 

Andrew spares Neil a glance before returning to his cell phone. “The cats ate already. Don’t believe anything they tell you.” 

Neil scoffs before making room for himself on the bed next to the goalie. His thigh is pressed against Andrew’s arm and he can feel his muscles twitching with every scroll he makes through his Twitter timeline. 

“Have you eaten today?” Neil curls Andrew’s white-blonde cowlick, absentmindedly. 

“Coffee, pancakes.” 

“I’ll order something later, then.” 

Neil had reluctantly left Andrew this morning after a whole night of welcoming him home. Andrew and King were visiting from his own team in D.C. for the weekend and they’d spent yesterday getting reacquainted. 

Waking up to his soft sheets, Sir warming their toes and King in between them, Andrew soft and luminous in the golden morning light- Neil had a questionably difficult time deciding whether practice was worth it. 

He’d spent the entire nine-hour practice remembering that very sight. He’d still never get used to having a home and Andrew to go back to, even if it was just sporadic weekends at a time. It was more than he could ever ask for. More than he’d ever dreamed of. 

After a few minutes of Neil watching Andrew scroll through his phone, the blonde roughly elbows his thigh, “You smell like gym socks and Kevin. Bathe.”

“You like it,” Neil smirks but gets off the bed anyway, tossing his shirt in the hamper and making his way to the bathroom. 

Instead of starting the shower, he puts a stop in the drain to start a bath. It’s something his team’s therapist said would help with anxiety, and Neil had enjoyed it so much, it’s become a regular part of his routine after practice days. 

Neil finishes undressing and steps gingerly into the tub, the steaming water just up to his ribcage. He closes his eyes and leans his head behind him on the wall, letting the water relax his tight and sore muscles. 

He hears the door creak wider and his eyes follow the noise to a nude Andrew placing two towels on the sink counter. 

Neil says nothing- just smiles lightly and scoots forward, making room. He allows himself to admire Andrew’s pale and compact body as he makes his way into the tub, legs bracketing Neil.

Neil relaxes his back against Andrew’s chest and lets his hands rest on his freckled knees – rubbing his thumbs slowly back and forth. 

Andrew reaches for the soap on the side of the tub and lathers it between his hands, then, after a whispered do you want me to bathe you? in Neil’s ear and minute nod of acquiescence, Andrew slowly rubs his hands on Neil’s scarred abdomen. 

“Nicky texted me earlier,” Neil says softly, “he wanted to know if he and Erik come to D.C. next month will you be there. Told him I’d ask but-“ 

Neil’s speech dissolves into deep breaths as Andrew’s deft hands rub soap into his inner thighs. 

Andrew’s chest vibrates with a considering hum. “I have no home games next month. But I’m certain he can travel without me being there to babysit.”

“I think it means he wants to see you.” Another hum vibrates throughout the two as Andrew reaches for the generic shampoo to rub between his calloused hands. 

“Sit up.” Neil obeys and Andrew massages through his auburn waves. If you’d have asked him seven years ago whether he thought Andrew Minyard capable of massaging gently through his hair, softly enough that his eyes would stamp shut and his heart would lull, Neil would have called bullshit. And yet here he is. 

Andrew taps Neil’s shoulder to show he’s done and Neil cups water in his hands to rinse it out. 

As he does this, Andrew reaches over the edge of the tub to attend to the persistent meowing that’s resulting from their patchy black cat.

“He’s jealous. Now you need to wash him.” 

“Smartass,” Andrew’s arm is still disappeared, softly rubbing at King’s temple, “he’s wondering why the two of you smell the same.”

“You dote on him, he’s spoiled.” Neil looks behind him at Andrew and raises his eyebrows, missing Andrew’s other hand still in the tub, flicking water at him.

“Maybe you’re the one whose jealous.” Andrew says as he gently pushes Neil up, “Get out; this tub isn’t big enough for the both of us.” 

Neil laughs and gets out anyway – ignoring the towels Andrew had brought out and instead dripping all over the floor. 

He goes to his dresser and pulls on sweats and a tee before grabbing his phone and resuming Andrew’s old position on the bed. 

Texts from Matt pop up and as he’s replying to his old friend, Andrew slowly makes his way back onto the bed. He reaches under his pillow to pull out his copy of one of the Harry Potter books (Neil doesn’t know the difference between them) which he opens up after relaxing his back against the headboard. 

Without taking a break in typing his message to Matt, Neil lays his head on Andrew’s chest. As one of the cats jump on the bed, Andrew cards a hand through Neil’s hair.

If anyone would have asked either of them how their life would look today, seven years ago – this wouldn’t have even been a thought in their mind. Something this good, this comfortable, this safe. But it’s real. And it’s theirs.


End file.
